Intimacy and the Lack Thereof
by Jixie
Summary: The Calypsos' fumbling and failed attempts to find something they can hold onto. A collection of short stories. (Tyreen and Troy; Troy/Aurelia)
1. (Tyreen, bandits) (Ribald Humor)

**Intimacy and the Lack Thereof**

by Jixie

Borderlands © Gearbox Software

* * *

"…and meantime, I can't get properly laid, because I keep leaching my partners to death. So yeah, that's my 'thing'."

Troy cut the feed and gave her an amused look. "I TOLD you, just get a sex robot already."

"That's not a thing," Tyreen replied, rolling her eyes.

"It _is_ a thing. It's totally a thing."

She pouted, crossing her arms as she slouched in her seat.

"Is not. And besides, even if it was, I don't… that's not how I get down." After a slight pause, she started muttering under her breath. "I don't know how it would— how can— I'd end up getting _ruptured_ for crying out loud."

"Nah, you'll be fine. It's no different than jerkin' off with your metal hand—"

"NOOOOOOOOO!" she cried, clapping her hands over her ears. "UGH! Troy! How dare you!" Turning her head slightly, Tyreen pantomimed gagging and vomiting. "Uuuugh, I could've lived withOUT that mental image, _thank you very much!_"

"You're welcome," he replied, equally sarcastic.

She leaned forward, sagging, shoulders hunched and arms hanging, fingers almost brushing the ground.

"I hate you. I hate you, you disgusting bastard." Then she glanced up, look of consternation on her face. "How the _hell_ do you even do that without— ugh— without accidentally ripping it off?"

Troy knew it was a rhetorical question, and knew that he shouldn't answer… but he couldn't help himself. With one brow arched and a crooked grin, he held up his index finger— on his cybernetic right hand, naturally— and said: "_Very_ carefully."

She groaned and facepalmed.

* * *

"Who wants to fuck each other silly for your God-Queen's entertainment?"

Every hand in the vicinity shot up. She didn't even have to use her influence on them. They'd just as eagerly throw themselves into a running grinder for her. Tyreen's face twisted in deep contemplation as she reviewed her options. One thing she'd give them— as badly as eridium exposure has deformed most of them, the bandits of Pandora keep themselves in remarkable physical shape. A few were a little spongy around the middle, some rocking spare tires, but most were lean and toned.

"You," she said, pointing to an especially cut psycho. There was no telling if he had a decent mug or not, but it didn't matter— with abs like those, he could keep the mask on. "And you." A wild-eyed, busty zealot. "Aaaaand… hmmm… _you_." This one was a beefy bruiser, with a derrière that he could crack a walnut between his cheeks.

They followed her into one of her private rooms and began to undress.

"So, guys, how about you introduce yourselves?"

The zealot started talking before she even finished. "Buzz Kill!"

"I'm sorry… 'Buzz Kill'?"

"Yeah!" She nodded, a broad grin plastered across her face as she peeled off her shirt. Bingo! "It's short for 'Buzzsaw Killer', my two favorite words!"

"Oh… well… okay then." Tyreen glanced at the next volunteer.

"TAZERFACE!" He was attempting to pull his pants off over his shoes, and stumbled.

There was an uneasy silence, and Tyreen blinked in surprise. Then blinked again.

"Alriiiiight." She clasped her hands together. "New names for everyone!"

"Didn't you want to hear mine?" the bruiser asked.

"Nope!" Tyreen glanced from one to the other and started to point. "Fabio," she told the psycho. "Umm… Peaches, aka Titty Monster." She christened the zealot. Then she paused at the bruiser and drew in a sharp breath. "And _holy cow_, that thing's like a foot long."

"'That Thing's Like a Foot Long' is a bit of a mouthful…"

"_I'll say_. No, but seriously, let's call you, um, yikes, uh…" There were so many options. Bologna Poney? King Bullymong? Rock-Hard Kielbasa?

"M-meat! Meat Bicycle!" Fabio suggested.

"The Conductor!" said Peaches.

"Let me guess." Tyreen pinched the bridge of her nose. "'The Conductor… of the poop train'?"

Peaches squealed and clapped. "Yes, yes!"

"Nnnnno. Ugh. Okay, Rakkman."

"Oh! Rakkman is my favorite superhero!"

'Superhero' was not an appropriate description of Rakkman, but whatever.

"No wait. Bone Crusher!" This seemed to go over well. "Now we've got that out the way, let's talk ground rules. Safewords: There are none. Anything goes."

"Even killing? Like with a buzzsaw axe?" ̶B̶u̶z̶z̶ ̶K̶i̶l̶l̶ Peaches asked.

"Yes, but—" Tyreen pounded her fist into her other hand. "That's not what you're here for. And right now, there is a decided lack of holes being filled, guys. C'mon. Chop chop."

They delivered, and did not disappoint. As always, she took care of herself.

Tyreen was on the cusp of ecstasy when her echo came on.

"Hey Ty, just a heads up—"

"Not _now_, Troy!"

"—the Vault Thieves are—"

"I SAID _NOT NOW!_"

Her brother huffed in frustration before cutting off the echo transmission.

It was too late, the disruption had completely killed her mood. Furious, Tyreen screamed and flung the toy she'd been using.

…Accidentally whacking Fabio right in the head with the vibrator.

Peaches and Bone Crusher took it as a sign to start attacking. Within minutes, the hapless psycho was reduced to a quivering heap of meat and viscera.

"For our Queen Tyreen! For the twin gods!"

"Enough. That's— that's enough. Go. Scram."

She wanted to roll around on the ground and throw a screaming tantrum, but Fabio— or Tazerface, whatever— was still bleeding life. There was no point in letting him go to waste. Tyreen approached, placed a gentle hand on his head, and drained him dry.

* * *

A/N: Guardians of the Galaxy jokes? In _my_ Borderlands fanfic? Ah, heck.


	2. (TroyAurelia) (Humor, Sad)

A/N: This is not a love story.

* * *

Aurelia was more than twice Troy's age.

She was also intelligent, well bred, _refined_. Sure, she was stunningly beautiful, having spent a small fortune on her appearance.

But Troy had access to countless beautiful women, most of them around his age. Devoted, passionate, unbridled women who would do literally anything for him (and Tyreen). They were also women that no one ever made the mistake of calling 'refined'. These were bandits, survivors of the wilds of Pandora. They were the literal opposite of civilized.

So, Aurelia, who spoke with such elegance, who didn't so much walk as she _sashayed_, who bore a countenance of dignity and pride… she sure got his attention. As for Aurelia herself, she wasn't half as impressed with Troy as he was with her. She appreciated the twin's offer for her 'business acquisition' of the Jakobs Corporation, but aside from that, she saw them for what they were: self-absorbed, entitled little shits.

Be that as it may… he was a young and clearly smitten, self-absorbed, entitled little shit. Rough around the edges, and oh so green, but he made up for the lack of experience and know-how with sheer enthusiasm and— well— youthful vigor. Troy wasn't exactly her type, but not a bad specimen for the type that he was.

In the end, she took him. Not the best dick she ever had, but hardly the worst, either.

* * *

Afterwards, he continued lingering around the Jakob's estate. Aurelia had a feeling that it was less about her, and more about the awkward tension developing between the twins. Troy no longer depended on Tyreen, and was eager to get out of his sister's shadow. It was hard to tell if he had the gall to actually make a move against her, but she clearly felt threatened anyway. …or maybe it was resentment. She had carried him this whole time, and wasn't getting the gratitude she felt she deserved.

If Aurelia ever possessed an ounce of maternal instinct, she'd had it surgically removed years ago. She used to feel things like pity and empathy, but most of that was burned out after the whole sordid affair with Handsome Jack. The years that followed were not kind, and between the failed marriages and the unresolved passive-aggression left festering from mother's death…

Not even this pitiful bastard could stir up a whisper of compassion within her.

Troy was in the library, flipping through a book but not actually reading it. He glanced at Aurelia before snapping the book shut and placing it back on the shelf.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked hesitantly. "About family being 'another word for war'?"

"Of course I did." She wove her fingers together, cruel smile playing at her lips. "I _always_ mean what I say."

"…right."

"Oh, don't be so dour, child. It doesn't suit you."

"It's just things are starting to get _weird_ between us, you know? And I think Ty thinks— see—"

She heaved a sigh.

Pros: His levitating powers were a great deal of fun, and allowed for positions that normally were not possible. That cybernetic arm had some very interesting features. He was enthusiastic. He was creative.

Cons: That creativity was not tempered by knowledge or good sense. Some things were impossible for a reason. And just because you _could_ do something didn't mean it was pleasurable. He hadn't the slightest clue how to pace himself, and so when they actually got down to business, the act itself was all too fleeting.

Was this worth it?

She had no interest in romance or— heaven forbid— emotional intimacy. The fact that Troy was opening up to her, (and worse, seemed to be… looking for _guidance?_) made her want to run away as fast as she could.

"Darling," she said slowly. "I am not here to offer counsel, comfort, or even a sympathetic ear. My shoulder is here to bite, not to cry on."

He shifted his weight and looked away, face growing flushed. "Right. Right, forget I said anything."

"Already forgotten," Aurelia said cheerfully as she approached. Reaching out, she loosened his belt and slipped her hand down the front of his pants. "I think I know how to take your mind off this nonsense."

Troy shuddered. Her breath was cold, sweeping over the crook between his neck and shoulder.

"Let us desecrate this stuffy old library."

"Whatever you say, Baroness."

Things steadily escalated, and they were partially disrobed when Troy opened his fool mouth again.

"I guess I resent the fact that Ty never saw me as an equal," he blurted out. "I'm not her younger brother or her older brother. I'm her _twin_. We were conjoined, so it's not even like one of us came out 'first'."

Aurelia groaned, making no effort to hide her look of disgust.

"Are you quite done? Have you gotten it out of your system yet?"

He hesitated, then started to nod 'yes', only to then shake his head 'no'.

"What else? What _else_ is there?"

"…The stupid thing is, I had no idea I could drain another siren like that. It worked out, and our followers loved it, but— I didn't even mean to kill her—"

"Oh please. How many people have you killed over the years? What's one Vault Hunter?"

When Troy didn't respond, Aurelia pushed off of him and started pulling her brassiere on. He made no effort to stop her.

"I simply cannot believe that you lived on Pandora all those years, and _Maya_ popped your murder cherry."

"I've been responsible for deaths!" he said. "Just not… you know… Tyreen always handled that stuff."

"Do stop talking, Troy."

He fell silent, while Aurelia pulled her blouse over her head.

This. This was why she didn't mess with younger men.

She had one arm halfway through the sleeve when she decided 'screw it', pulled her top back off, and shoved Troy to the ground. "One more peep out of you," Aurelia warned, "and I'll freeze your tongue to the roof of your mouth."

He could tell that she meant it, and nodded.

Somehow, he managed to get through the rest of their rendezvous without another sound.


	3. (Tyreen and Troy) (Feels, Angst)

Typhon never blamed her for Leda's death. That was something they had to piece together on their own.

Not that it was all that difficult to figure out. Tyreen had been born a siren, blue markings going up her left arm and shoulder, traveling down her chest and side. (Likewise, Troy had always had his red markings, mostly confined to his arm… but they'd been muted, pale, looking more like a rash than a tattoo.) Her powers— Phaseleech, such an ugly name— were passive until she was twelve. After they'd become active, the twins realized that Troy had a passive form of Phaseleech, siphoning life from his sister.

Knowing that, and reflecting on Typhon's description of their mother's mysterious illness, how she'd gradually wasted away… well, it was pretty obvious that Tyreen had been the cause.

* * *

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Yeah?"

He was still up, way later than he should've been, goofing off on his echo unit.

"It's me," Tyreen said, stepping into his room. As if it could've been anyone else. The twins were the only ones around with the courtesy to knock, and their followers knew better than to bother them when they were in their personal quarters.

She stood there, one hand still on the doorknob, the very picture of misery.

"Don't stand there looking like a drowned skag," Troy said, gesturing. "Come on."

Without a word she crawled into bed next to him, and he pulled her into an embrace, surprisingly careful with his oversized cybernetic arm. She got this way sometimes— when the ravenous Phaseleech was overpowered by a different kind of hunger. Tyreen was starved for affection, for touch, for the most basic human contact. In other words: she needed a hug.

And because she quite literally sucked the life out of anyone else, her options were Troy, or… just Troy. Fortunately, he'd been an overly clingy, affectionate child, and even as an adult, didn't mind this kind of platonic cuddling.

"What're you working on?"

"Nothing, just— you know. Checking logs, playing Rakk Hive Crunch."

"Best your high score yet?"

"Nah. I was so close, too, until some annoying bitch interrupted me, and broke my concentration…"

"Oh 'har har'."

Tyreen's stomach growled ominously, and Troy lifted his head enough to glare daggers at her.

"Don't you _dare_ fart on me, Ty."

"You're not the boss of me." She pulled a face. "I can't tell if it's going back to the gross Pandoran 'food' or if I'm just getting less tolerant of eating for real. But, uh, somethin' doesn't agree with me."

"It's the Pandoran food. Trust me."

"Good."

She'd gotten paranoid about this, the idea that as her powers grew, she would continue to slip further and further away from her humanity, getting more isolated as time went by. Once she drained the Destroyer, it wouldn't matter, but until then…

* * *

Troy had only brought up her part in their mother's death to Tyreen once.

It was in the middle of a heated argument. They were in their late teens, shortly after arriving on Pandora. The look on her face then had both killed the argument, and ensured that he'd never bring it to her up again.

* * *

"Ugh, you're not falling asleep here, are you?"

"Mmmf."

He pulled away from her enough to sit up a little. "Hey Ty, remember how you used to— oof!"

She was awake enough to elbow him in the short ribs.

"You didn't know what I was gonna say!"

"I know whatever it was, it was mean."

Troy was silent for a few moments. "Heh. Yeah."

* * *

Once Tyreen had fallen asleep, Troy eased his left arm out from under her, and rolled onto his back.

"It's my fault."

"I thought you were out cold," said Troy.

She didn't respond.

"What do you mean, what's your fault?"

"You know."

"No, I don't."

"Dad told us we were born conjoined, that it was a medical thing, right? A freak birth defect. But you know what that really is? 'Cause I looked it up on the echonet," she said bitterly. "It's when identical twins don't develop separately. _Identical_ twins, Troy."

The implication was clear. If she was born a siren, passively leeching the life from Leda as an infant, then she was a siren even before that, partially devouring her brother while they were still in the womb.

"Don't be such an idiot," he replied without hesitation. "How the hell is that your fault? Did you choose to be a siren? Huh?"

Wordlessly Tyreen squirmed closer to him, resting her forehead against Troy's arm.

"Then, after deciding to be a siren, did you look at all the available options and go 'Punching? Teleportation? Nah, man, I want the one that cuts me off from the rest of humanity. _That's_ the one.'?"

There was a heavy, uneasy pause.

"If I wasn't a siren—"

"You know none of this crap is going to matter once we get hold of the Destroyer. With that power, we'll be able to do whatever we want. You'll be able to control the Phaseleech, I'll be…"

"…normal? Normal's overrated."

"That's rich, coming from an abnormal girl. Yeah, I'll keep that little gem in my pocket for later."

She pinched him.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"We're this close and now you start getting cold feet? Ty, everything we've done so far, every step along the way, has gone according to plan. It's like you said. You were destined for this."

"…I… I guess. I just… can't shake this feeling…"

"Then you know what you have to do. The same thing we've always done."

"'Fake it 'till you make it'."

"Yup."

* * *

Neither of them could remember Leda.

But sometimes, when they were dreaming, there was a soft comforting touch, or snatches of an off-key lullaby, or the scent of skin and floral perfume.

* * *

Hours later Tyreen is still awake, exhausted but restless, plagued by her own thoughts and doubts and regrets.

"Do— do you think Mom would hate us, or would she 'get' it?"

But Troy was fast asleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, please check out my other fic "Light From a Dying Star".


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